


Hot and Cold

by Just_the_Messenger



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Based on a Tumblr Post, Crowley Being an Idiot (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff and Humor, M/M, https://random-ferret.tumblr.com/post/188501980946/hey-guess-what-hellfire-tastes-like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:22:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28658673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_the_Messenger/pseuds/Just_the_Messenger
Summary: You know that Tumblr post by random-ferret where they eat a habanero pepper and a lot of breath mints simultaneously? Well, bored demon + internet research + social media + food = disaster
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 39





	Hot and Cold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarkAngel2891](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAngel2891/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Tumblr post: Guess What Hellfire Tastes Like](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/740151) by random-ferret. 



> Based on random-ferret's Tumblr post and nudibranchparty's response, as well as DarkAngel2891's sharing of said post on Scribbling Vaguely Downwards
> 
> Tumblr post: https://random-ferret.tumblr.com/post/188501980946/hey-guess-what-hellfire-tastes-like
> 
> Shared post on Facebook with nudibranchparty comment: https://scontent-dfw5-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/136359344_426736991855703_2067570225952745430_o.jpg?_nc_cat=107&ccb=2&_nc_sid=825194&_nc_ohc=3EirhxeiNDcAX9n4eQr&_nc_ht=scontent-dfw5-2.xx&oh=e207eec92d1e9bb3ed3a2395f1ca6741&oe=601F27B2

Ten minutes after his latest experiment had gone terribly awry, Crowley lay sprawled on his black leather sofa, chic black ensemble and fiery red hair drenched in sweat, steadily consuming an entire gallon of milk. He hated the taste (who convinced humans it was a good idea to drink from cows? he wondered vaguely. Had it been a demonic trick of _his_ , or something Heaven screwed up yet again? He definitely did the whole almond milk thing, but was it to fix his earlier mistake of tempting humans to milk cows or just for the hell of it?), but it was the only thing keeping him from literally breathing fire at this point. As Crowley sighed, wiped his mouth and set the jug down, his mouth temporarily soothed by the creamy dairy, his cell phone vibrated from its place on the coffee table.

Looking down, Crowley saw it was Aziraphale. “Uuugghghhghghhhg!” he groaned melodramatically, curling up into the fetal position on the couch and covering his face now-burning cheeks as well. “Why did I have to set him up on Tumblr? Why did I have to buy him that smart phone at all! WHY DOES EVERYTHING I DO END UP SCREWING ME OVER IN THE END?!”

The only replies were that of trembling leaves in another room and the persistent vibration of his phone. Crowley sighed, sat up, took another swig of milk like it was whiskey, answered the call and pressed speaker.

“Hey, angel,” he croaked, internally throwing a fit at how hoarse his voice was. “Now’s not really a great—”

“No, I can’t imagine it is,” chuckled Aziraphale. Crowley scowled. “I just read your Tumbled—”

“Tumblr.”

“Oh right, yes. Your Tumblr post, about—let me make sure I have this right—”

“Oh God angel,” complained Crowley, cringing, “we really don’t have to go through the whole—”

“Yes we do. Ah, yes. Here it is.” Aziraphale cleared his throat, then read Crowley’s (aka random-ferret’s) latest post. “’I read that capsaicin makes your mouth feel like it’s burning because it increases your nerve sensitivity to heat, and menthol works by doing the same thing to cold. So,’” continued the angel in a very proper, business-like manner while Crowley glowered and writhed with discomfort on the other end, “if I eat a habanero—' you really should have put a tilde over the ‘n,’ dear—'and then chew a bunch of breath mints, they’ll—’ I’m assuming you meant to put something along the lines of “cancel” here—'each other out and I’ll be fine.’”

As the angel paused for what Crowley assumed correctly was dramatic effect, Crowley closed his eyes and tried not to picture the smug bastard expression on Aziraphale’s stupid, beautiful, perfect, soft, stupid little face.

“Well, anyway,” lilted Aziraphale in his lightest, airiest tone, “this is me just checking in to make sure you’re fine, darling.”

Crowley planned to match Aziraphale’s smug smile and raise him a “Oh yes, absolutely tickety-boo my dear fellow, although I do appreciate you checking in,” before hanging up and chugging the rest of the white dairy liquid to soothe his ravaged mouth and throat. But, like most of his plans, it ended up quite pear-shaped, specifically in the form of him coughing so violently upon opening his mouth to reply that the demon accidentally knocked the jug of milk off the coffee table, and then swore loudly and very creatively at having destroyed his last means of soothing his flaming gums.

“I guess that answers that, then,” teased Aziraphale silkily.

Crowley glared glaringly at his phone, then snapped his fingers to disappear the milk currently mildewing his carpet. “Oh shut it,” he hissed venomously, though the effect was a bit diminished by him needing to cough halfway through. “I just wanted to give it a try, alright? It’s not like it was drugs, or anything dangerous—just stuff humans eat all the bloody time!”

“Yes, but never together!” cried Aziraphale. “What in Heaven’s name were you thinking, ingesting such strong substances simultaneously? Did you seriously think they would, “cancel each other out,” as you so eloquently phrased it?”

Crowley pouted and slumped back into the couch. “Maybe,” he mumbled, crossing his arms and looking away from the phone.

Aziraphale sighed. “Alright, well, have you drunk any milk yet?”

“Yes, yes, I’ve drunk plenty of milk!” snapped Crowley very defensively. “I’m not an idiot you know! I just like—you know, trying new things…”

“I know, my dear,” replied the angel, his voice softening. “That’s what I love best about you.”

Crowley blushed. “Thanks,” he grumbled, still pouting. The boyfriends sat in silence until Aziraphale asked, “What did you plan on posting next, regarding your little experiment?”

Crowley thought for a moment, took a long draught of the goat’s milk (lesser of the evils at this point) he’d just miracled and replied, “Probably somethin’ casual like, ‘Hey, guess what Hellfire tastes like?’” They both laughed at the comment’s irony.

“Oh my little curious cat,” sighed the angel, “you should have come to me first! I’d have told you that it’s impossible to cancel those two sensations out, because the nerve endings for something being too hot and something being too cold are not the same, meaning they can be activated simultaneously.”

“Well, I like to find things out on my own,” retorted the demon, smirking, “and probably wouldn’t have believed you anyway.”

“No, that’s true, you wouldn’t—Oh! I should post that on your conversation line!”

Crowley frowned. “Conversation li—you mean my thread?”

“Yes! I couldn’t dissuade you in time, but I can convince others not to engage in your insane antics!”

Crowley rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Be my guest, nudibranchparty.”

Aziraphale groaned. “That was a mistake, and you know it! I was trying to type, “NedBranchparty,” as I’m his guardian angel and thus supporting his run for mayor, but it autocorrected and now I can’t change it back!”

“Oh yeah, forgot about that,” mused Crowley thoughtfully, scratching his chin and smiling demonically.

Aziraphale whimpered like an adorable puppy dog. “You said you’d fix in last week!” cried the now rather distressed former Principality. “Can’t you just do it now?”

“Well,” began Crowley slyly, lying down on the couch and putting his hands behind his head, “I certainly _could_ , but I make it a point to never undo my own demonic work unless it becomes absolutely necessary.”

Aziraphale gasped and Crowley snickered quietly. “Crowley! Y-you mean you changed it all this time?! It wasn’t that—autocorrecting—thing?”

“I was just getting back at you for saying I wasn’t any fun,” replied Crowley, smirking.

His angel huffed. “Well, if this is your idea of fun, then you might just find your OWN Timber—”

“Tumblr.”

“Whatever!—name changing soon enough, Anthony J. Crowley!” finished Aziraphale, mischief lacing his melodious voice.

Crowley’s smirk vanished. “You wouldn’t.”

Aziraphale chuckled darkly. “Oh yes I would, Mr.—”

“Alright, alright, you win!” cried the demon frantically, sitting up and practically begging the phone for mercy. “I’ll change it back right now! Just text me your password and stuff, and I’ll fix it. Then we’re all square, okay? No need for anymore…..fun.”

“Thank you, darling. Sounds lovely. Oh, I’m going shopping later, anything I can get you at the store?”

“No, I’m fine. Just—just don’t change any of my social media screennames, okay? Deal?”

“Deal. Really? No ghost chiles? Altoids? Couple gallons of plain Tesco?”

“Goodbye, angel.”


End file.
